Bedroom Behavior
by MissAnnThropic
Summary: A drunk Sam Carter and Janet Fraiser discuss the hypothetical bedroom behavior of Jack O'Neill and Daniel Jackson.


Title: Bedroom Behavior

Author: MissAnnThropic

LiveJournal: miss_annthropic(dot)livejournal(dot)com

Summary: A drunk Sam Carter and Janet Fraiser discuss the hypothetical bedroom behavior of Jack O'Neill and Daniel Jackson.

Disclaimer: None of it's mine. I'm just a sad little fangirl that spends her days writing fanfic and watching DVDs of her favorite shows :(

Author's Note: I was trawling through my files on my computer and found this in my Stargate folder – a fic that I wrote and never posted. Better late than never?

* * *

Major Samantha Carter and Doctor Janet Fraiser didn't go out for a 'night on the town' often. Even less frequently did their sojourns involve lots of alcohol. Which was for the best, because when Sam and Janet were both in their cups they had some rather graphic conversations.

Like the one taking place at 10:40 p.m. in O'Malley's Bar and Grill. The two women had appropriated a round booth near the back and each imbibed in far too much of the spirits. In their defense, it had been a shitty week. They'd well earned a little down-time.

But at some point in the evening, perhaps near the fourth round of drinks, they'd passed a line of decency and left all hope of tact behind.

That was the only explanation for the next lewd comment that popped out of Janet Fraiser's mouth amid the chatter of the restaurant patrons.

"Do you ever wonder what kind of lays the fine men of SG-1 would be?"

Sam choked on her beer. Janet snorted and pounded her friend on the back like a guy out with his buddy, lacking any of the tenderness normally found in her bedside manner.

"What?" Sam gasped, eyes still burning and the sharp tang of brew in her nasal cavity.

Janet grinned. "What kind of lays would the men of SG-1 be?"

Sam gaped. "Why would you ask _me_? You think I'm sleeping with them off on missions every chance I get?"

Janet laughed raucously. "You ought to be!"

"Janet!"

"What? You spend so much 'quality time' with Colonel O'Neill and Doctor Jackson and _don't_ take advantage of it?"

"Reg-u-lations, Janet," Sam slurred.

"That doesn't fly with Daniel, Sam." Then Janet beamed. "So you _have_ thought about it."

Sam put her bottle down and rolled her eyes. "Hell, sure, I've _thought_ about it. What woman with a pulse _wouldn't_ in my place?"

Janet purred. "So… any insight?"

Sam made a sour face. "I have no idea. The subject never comes up around the campfire."

Janet chortled. "Oh, but could you imagine if it did! 'Gee, Colonel, this is a really fascinating mineral I've found, by the way, do you like being on bottom or on top'?"

Sam couldn't help herself… she howled with laughter. Janet joined her after another pull on her beer bottle.

Sam regained control of herself and sniffled. "Oh, their faces alone… god, but could you imagine asking _Daniel_?!"

Janet shook her head resolutely. "The man would blush ten shades of red and probably run off into the night, never to be seen or heard from again." Janet slid over the bench closer to Sam, "which is where our need for speculation comes in."

Sam pursed her lips and glared at her beer.

Janet gave a carefree shrug. "Fine… I'll go first. Let's start with the colonel, top or bottom? I'd say top."

Sam bit her lip then began to grin, despite her best efforts. "Neither."

Janet looked at Sam, her eyebrows raised quizzically.

There was a wicked gleam in Sam's eye that Janet liked. Sam turned to more directly face her friend. "If I had to _guess_, I'd figure the colonel to be a wall-sex kind of guy."

Janet's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

Sam nodded. "Absolutely."

Janet wiggled her eyebrows and leaned back. "Pray tell."

Sam licked her lips. "Because it would put him in the position of the most power and control. It would be the most dominant. He's a real decent guy when you talk to him, but Colonel O'Neill's got a dark streak like you wouldn't believe, and I'll bet that beast of his is front and center during sex."

Janet mulled that over. "Interesting… and oh, so very delicious."

Sam chuckled. "Also, it's tactical. It eliminates one direction he'd have to worry about. Colonel O'Neill's always conscious of his surroundings, where he is in space and what's immediately around him, and a wall right there in front of him would nicely reduce the other space he had to worry about when he was… otherwise occupied."

"I see your point. Okay, I'll agree with that. Wall-sex. Now, sweet and slow or hard and fast?"

"Hard and fast," Sam answered immediately.

Janet tried not to leer.

Sam scoffed. "Please, is there _any_ other answer for Jack O'Neill?"

"No," Janet conceded readily. "He's definitely a fucker, not a lover."

Sam hooted and took another drink.

"Screamer or silent type?" Janet continued the interrogation.

"Silent type," Sam knew that right away. "Anything else would compromise his position."

Janet lifted her beer in silent salute. "I bow to your knowledge on the matter. So, Colonel Jack O'Neill. Wall-sex, aggressive, silent type. Cuddle?"

"Nah. He's got better things to do with his time than snuggle… like clean his weapons or watch the Simpsons."

"Good thing or bad thing?" Janet countered.

Sam shrugged. "Just a Jack thing. I imagine his prowess in the bedroom would make up for his lack of tenderness after."

"Ah… so you figure him to be well-versed in the arts of coitus?"

"_Very_," Sam said with a wicked smile.

Janet nodded thoughtfully, then beamed. "Okay, then on to contestant number two. Doctor Daniel Jackson."

"Oh god," Sam groaned playfully and shook her head.

"Ah, no fair leaving the handsome young doctor out of this. He's just as attractive as the colonel, though in an entirely different way."

"Hey, I'm not arguing with you on that, it's just… Daniel's like my brother. It's a little strange talking about his bedroom habits."

"Humor me," Janet quipped. "Question number one, top, bottom, or other?"

Sam considered that a moment. "Bottom. Definitely bottom. Daniel's just the kind of guy to let the woman set the pace, control the whole thing, including him."

"What a gentleman," Janet crooned.

Sam snickered. "But if his _partner_ wanted to do it doggie style with a gag and fuzzy handcuffs, he'd do it."

"Oh my!" Janet gasped. "The images in my head, Sam. And you said you never thought about Daniel like that! I'd call _that_ a pretty specific, albeit _speculative_, observation."

"It's just the natural conclusion. Daniel's so open to new experiences and trying new things from other people's perspectives. I don't think it would be his _preference_, but I don't think he'd think twice about giving anything his partner wanted a try."

"That is very considerate of him. Hmmm… I can answer the next question easily: sweet and slow."

"Definitely," Sam nodded in agreement. "Have you ever seen the way he handles an artifact? Like it's made of spun glass and liable to break if he so much as looks at it wrong? I'll bet that's how his bedmates feel with him. Like spun glass in a master's hands."

"Ah, so you think he's skilled?"

Sam paused. "Actually, no. I think he probably bumbles his way through half of it, but god give him credit for effort."

Janet guffawed. "Oh, poor Daniel, if he knew you thought so little of him…"

"Just the opposite. I think he's the kind of guy who puts so much emotional attachment to having sex that his partners have been few but cherished."

Janet eyed Sam. "Are you calling Jack O'Neill a slut?"

Sam smirked. "No… I'm calling him an alpha. He knows what he wants, _takes_ what he wants, and is damn good at doing it. Few women he's set his eye on have had the will to deny him."

Janet mused on that with relish. "Fair enough… back to the good Doctor Jackson. Screamer or silent type?"

"Neither. Talker. And I'll bet it's in an ancient dialect of some kind. Ancient Egyptian, maybe. I can imagine him whispering sweet nothings from dead languages to his lover during sex."

Janet hummed in the back of her throat. "Well, isn't that just enough to get your juices flowing?"

"Janet!"

"Oh, _please_!" Janet retorted. "You were wriggling in your seat the minute we started talking about Jack O'Neill and his preference for walls."

"I was not!" Sam said defensively… and a little too sharply.

Janet flicked a dismissive hand at Sam then settled an elbow on the table. "Daniel… definitely a cuddler."

"_Definitely_," Sam joined in the games again. "Probably the kind of guy who'd cuddle _all day_ if you'd let him. He's pretty sappy when it comes to stuff like that."

Janet lifted an eyebrow. "Well, guess you just confessed _your_ preference."

Sam scowled. "There are things you could be getting done rather than waste time snuggled up in bed."

"Oh, I wouldn't call snuggle-time with Daniel Jackson wasted time."

Sam paused. "Okay, maybe not _wasted_, but I mean it, Janet. I'll bet he'd lie there _all day_."

"Sounds lovely to me."

Sam shrugged.

"All right… only fair to round out the critique. What word would you use to describe each man's respective looks?"

"Well…" Sam thought hard, "for Daniel, I'd probably go with 'handsome'."

"Just 'handsome'?" Janet parroted. "Not scrumptious or hot or…"

Sam shook her head. "Daniel's a real classy, traditional kind of guy, and 'handsome' is the most dignified way to objectify a man. He deserves it."

"When you put it that way, I can deal with that, though I would have said 'totally hot', thank you, Cassandra." Janet smiled. "So… what about Colonel O'Neill?"

Sam fought a sly grin. "_Sexy_."

"Sexy," Janet repeated.

"No, not 'sexy'. _Sexy_."

"Ahhhh… with marked emphasis."

"Oh, yeah."

"I won't contest your choice. Nor the emphasis."

Sam giggled.

"Well," Janet sat back, "we've tallied the scores for the individual events… what, Samantha Carter, is your total score for these men when it comes to sex?"

Sam rolled her eyes. "Keeping in mind that this is entirely hypothetical…"

"Of course."

Sam sighed. "Daniel… I'd give him a five."

"Ooo… so low? What did the gorgeous young genius do to offend you?"

"I mentioned the 'he's like my brother' factor at the outset, didn't I? I can't rate my brother higher than the mean, it's just _wrong_."

"Fine, spoilsport… but you'll forgive me if I rank him an eight."

Sam nodded in surrender.

"And?" Janet prompted, "Colonel O'Neill?"

Sam began to flush. "Colonel O'Neill… probablyaten…" she grumbled in a cough.

Janet leaned forward. "Sorry, what was that? I didn't quite catch that."

Sam smiled. "I said a ten."

"Wow! Perfect score! Someone's got a thing for Colonel O'Neill."

"Yeah, like half the base."

Janet laughed. "Ah, well, at least you didn't go entirely sophomoric about it and say 'on a scale of one to ten, an eleven'."

Sam ducked her head. "I thought about it."

Janet slapped the table. "Oh, Sam." Janet swayed on her seat. "We did miss one male member of SG-1, you know."

"Teal'c?"

"What would you say is the bedroom style of our non-resident friend?"

In unison, both women said, "Efficient."

Together, they burst into peels of laughter.

Janet recovered first with a tilt and grab for the table. "Whew! I think it's time I headed home and slept some of this off. Oh, I'm going to regret this in the morning."

"You're not driving home…"

"No, of course not. I'm a _doctor_, I know better. I'll have the barkeeper call me a cab. Wanna share one?"

Sam shook her head. "I live the other way; I'll call one myself when I'm ready to go."

"Sticking around for another round, are you?"

Sam snorted. "More like thinking of curling up on this bench here and catching a few winks before I brave the night."

"Wise woman," Janet stood and steadied herself on the table. "Good night, Sam. Call me in the morn-afternoon. Evening. Late evening."

Sam chuckled. "I will. Good night, Janet."

Janet Fraiser made her careful way to the bar, spoke with the bartender, then wobbled out to the front porch area to clear her head with the chilly night air and escape the ruckus inside. O'Malley's was a favorite haunt of the personnel of the SGC and the staff did a good job looking after their most lucrative customers. Janet would be fine outside until her cab arrived.

Sam, still sitting at the circular booth in the back, sagged down on the table and fought to focus on her drink. She was seriously contemplating putting her head down and taking a little catnap. She'd worked so many all-nighters that it wouldn't be the first time she fell asleep at the table at O'Malley's, though the collection of both women's beer bottles around her would be damning.

Sam was wondering if she should just call it a bust and stumble her way to the phone to call a cab when someone dropped down in the booth across from her. Sam groaned, not in the mood for some drunk's come-on lines.

"I wouldn't say wall so much anymore, not with these knees."

Sam jerked her head up so fast her vision swam. When it settled, she found herself staring into the dark eyes of Jack O'Neill. He was in his civvies, leather jacket and all, and giving her a very intense and knowing stare.

"S-sir…" she croaked, "when… where… how…."

One corner of Jack's mouth twitched in the tiniest smile. "I was in the booth behind you two, Carter." Jack eyed the array of beer bottles and reached over to take Sam's unfinished one. "I gotta say, you two ladies sure can put away the booze."

Sam's mouth opened and closed like a fish. "Sir, I…"

Jack took a drink from Sam's beer. "Yes, Major?"

Sam dropped her head to the table. "Oh, god… you ought to file charges on me, sir. That was, what you heard… you heard _all_ of it?"

"Every lascivious detail."

Sam groaned.

"Carter…"

Sam shook her head back and forth, forehead still firmly planted to the tabletop. "I am _so_ sorry, sir. If I had known… I never meant to… we were drunk."

"Are drunk, present tense."

"Am drunk. Smashed. Hammered. Three sheets to the wind. Blitzed. Pissed. Soaked. Shit-faced."

"While I'm sure Daniel would appreciate your wide vocabulary," Jack interrupted, "I'm not sure what he'd think about you only rating him a five."

Sam dared to peek up at Jack from a down-turned face. "I'm sure that's the last thing that would bother him in that conversation." She paled. "You aren't going to tell him, are you?"

Jack didn't answer right away, which really scared Sam. "Tell him?" Jack parroted. "No, I'm not. You were right… he'd run off in the night and never return. We'd probably find him shacked up with the natives in three years wearing a grass skirt and beads in his hair."

Despite her mortification, Sam laughed.

Jack considered Sam intently for a while, then took another drink of her beer. "Come on." He stood.

"What?" Sam blinked.

Jack gestured her to follow him. "No way are you driving anywhere. I'm taking you home."

Sam narrowed her eyes. "Your home or mine?"

Jack's eyes twinkled in the low light. "Mine. It's closer, and frankly, I don't care for the idea of you being alone as tanked as you are."

"Tanked," Sam blurted. "I forgot that one."

Jack shrugged. "Yeah, well, you can't know everything."

Sam shimmied out of the bench and tossed down a wad of cash. Jack waited then moved in beside her on their way to the front door.

"Colonel…" Sam gulped, "I really am sorry that you heard all that. I just… we were goofing around. It was just harmless girl talk; you shouldn't take it seriously."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "So you don't think I'm a ten?"

Sam gaped, jaw opening, jaw closing. "Well, uh, I…"

Jack smiled, quick but disarming. "Don't worry about it, Carter. For the record, that's what I'd rank you."

Sam stopped abruptly. Jack turned back to look at her, dangerously attractive with a calm power that made Sam weak in the knees.

Jack beckoned her forward again and held open the door. Sam moved past him, stunned silent, and Jack fell into step just behind her right shoulder. The crisp night air was just cold enough to cause their breaths to mist. Sam looked and saw Janet was already gone.

Jack guided her toward his truck. "Carter?"

"Yes, sir?" Sam muttered dumbly.

Jack rounded to the driver's side of his truck while Sam waited on the passenger side, looking at the colonel over the hood. He stopped and looked at her. "You were wrong about one thing." He almost smiled, a ghost of movement. "I don't mind cuddling now and then… so long as it's not when a hockey game's on."

Sam felt the blush from head to toe. "I… uh, I'll keep that in mind. Sir."

Jack nodded. "Good. Hop in."

Sam obeyed mindlessly, already groggy and longing for bed, and wondering what she was going to tell Janet tomorrow about _this_.

END

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Author's Note part deux: I have no excuse for basically excluding Teal'c from this beyond the fact that I just don't like his character. Besides, I felt I could get away with it because there were never any 'vibes' between Teal'c and either Sam or Janet.


End file.
